Harry Potter and the Absurd Reality That Never Really Happened
by ermergersh hergwertz
Summary: Harry is having fun, Snape's afraid of blood, Dumbledore is in his own little world, and Voldemort has a bad hairday. No pairings. Not abandoned, just sporadic updating.
1. ch 1 I'm a what?

**Disclaimer so standard that it hurts: NOT MINE. Main idea from JKR, and you might recognize some things from pop culture, like youtube, the internet in general. Some words come directly from the HP books.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-Co**

Ch. 1 I'm a what?

BOOM!

Harry jumped at the noise, scrambling to his feet as his absurdly large cousin sat up stupidly. Or, well, more stupidly than usual, due to the fact that it was in the middle of the night and he'd been sleeping.

BOOM!

Seriously? Harry thought. You're going to knock on a door that is clearly the only support structure in this shack? Half the roof caved in on the other side of the structure, and the air warmed considerably. There was a pause, then-

Crash! The door fell in, and a giant man who was almost as wide as Dudley walked in.

"Harry," he said slowly, disregarding the owl tangled in his beard. "You are a wizard." Harry stared in stunned astonishment.

"I'm a what?" he asked disbelievingly.

"A wizard, Harry."

"I'm a What?"

"A wizard."

"But I'm just Harry," he explained indignantly. The owl looked at him with an exasperated expression, clearly telling him to just accept it. He couldn't, though.

"No, Harry, you are a wizard."

"But I'm just Harry!" Harry insisted.

"No, just Harry! You are a wizard!"

"Listen here Hagrid, you stupid fat oaf! I am not a-" The owl interrupted with a loud hoot. "-wizard!"

"What's with this language, Harry!? You are a-" HOOT! "-wizard! You're gonna go to Hogwarts, do spells and-" HOOT! "-and you're gonna be-" HOOT HOOT! "-pleased about it!"

"Hagrid-"

Petunia covered Dudley's ears as the language degenerated into long lines of unrepeatable vulgarities, until Uncle Vernon interrupted their conversation.

"He won't be going," he said gruffly. "I'll not pay for him to go to some school and learn some magic nonsense."

"Magic?" Harry asked, confused. "Why would I need to learn that?"

"Because YOU ARE A WIZARD!" Harry looked stunned and shocked in his disbelief.

"I'm a WHAT?!"

* * *

"My Mother's down the street looking at wands, and Father's gone to get my books. I think I'll bully him into buying a broomstick. I can't believe first years aren't allowed! You into Quidditch?"

"Er..."

"Anyway, I do hope I'm in Slytherin," the pale... boy? Girl? Harry wasn't sure. continued in a long drawl. "Purest of the Houses. I don't think they should allow the other sort in, do you?" Harry decided it didn't matter. He'd hate him/her anyway.

"Of course not," he responded, copying the same drawl. "All those rich, mama's boys crying to their fathers about things not going their way, always expecting everyone to bow to their ungrateful little-" HOOT! Hagrid had arrived outside, owl still stuck in his beard. "Really, I mean, as a muggle-raised myself, I do hope for Slytherin as well, especially if it's the best house to avoid little snot-nosed brats who live in manors with servants and-"

"Wait until my father hears about this!" the boy/girl shouted shrilly, stalking out of the store.

"We'll be best friends in Hogwarts!" Harry shouted after him cheerfully. "We'll show those pureblood bigots their place by muggles feet! Bye!"

The Slytherin-hopeful disappeared down the street, and Harry grinned to himself.

"By the way, Hagrid," he said, before going back into the shop. "You've got a bit of owl in your beard."

"Wha'? Oh! Yeah, I wa' wonderin' where she wen'." The giant man gently untangled the snowy white owl and presented her to Harry. "Happy Birthday!"

"HOOT!"

* * *

Harry shifted his long-numb feet, hoping beyond all hope that Ollivander would find a wand for him. A wand, any wand at all, would be worth it just to get out of the dreary, dusty shop. With a disinterested wave of a Holly and Phoenix feather wand, Harry destroyed half the shelves.

"Bravo!" the wandmaker said as bits of wood showered his white head. "Very good indeed! But how curious..." He packaged up the wand, muttering all the while about being curious.

"Here's seven galleons for the wand," Harry said, handing over the coins.

"Thank you," Ollivander responded. "But it is dreadfully curious, so Very Curious..." Harry gave him an odd look, then started backing toward the door.

"Curious!" the old man repeated, looking quite sinister as he followed Harry. "How very CURIOUS! DREADFULLY CURIOUS!" Harry hesitated, then rolled his eyes.

"What's curious?" he deadpanned.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter." His voice had returned to it's soft, normal tone. "Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand..."

Harry's eyes glazed over, and his mind wandered as Ollivander rambled on unblinkingly. The wizarding world was so odd; there were no obvious signs of transportation wherever he looked. No brooms (which apparently Did fly), no carpets, no... dragons? Maybe they didn't have dragons, though Harry thought it would be cool to ride one...

"Terrible, yes, but great." Harry stared, wide-eyed, hoping he wasn't supposed to respond to that. Thankfully, Ollivander let him and Hagrid out into the fresh air once more.

* * *

 **More to come! I'll try to keep updating, have a couple more ideas waiting.**


	2. Ch 2 Hoggy Warty Hogwartz

**I've decided to post the next chapter a few days early! I know it's a bit short, but enjoy!**

 **-Co.**

 **Ch. 2 Hoggy Warty Hogwarts**

"Hmm... Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Harry hoped it wasn't Gryffindor; the whole lot of them seemed rambunctious and rowdy. Ravenclaw might be nice, and Slytherin didn't seem all too bad.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the hat.

Not Gryffindor! Harry thought furiously.

"Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that... no?"

Yes! Slytherin, yes!

"Well, if you're sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"

HOOT! HOOTing HOOT!

* * *

"Ah, yes," Professor Severus Snape said softly, eyes narrowing in on Harry. "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity." This caused the Slytherins - Oh, how Harry wanted to be in that house! - to snicker. Snape finished calling names and looked at the class in disgust.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began, and Harry added a silent 'How astute of you to observe, professor,' to the speech.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with it's shimmering fumes..."

Then why attempt to teach us at all?

"... the delicate powers of liquids that creep through human veins..."

Er... that would be blood? Harry wondered if the man was squeamish about blood.

"...bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you-"

I thought you didn't expect us to understand?

"-how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death." There was a brief pause while Harry managed to fit his entire persona into the words fame, glory, and death. Well, he certainly had enough of all three.

"If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads I usually have to teach."

Lovely.

"Potter!"

Lovely-er.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry stared at him blankly, while Hermione Granger's hand shot straight up into the air.

"Erm... a potion, sir?" Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut tut - fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter-"

As if he would be talking to anyone else.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Harry bit his lip a bit, unsure of the answer. Hermione was nearly jumping in her seat, hand waving.

"A reference guide to potions materials, sir. I'd need to know what a bezoar is to find it."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Harry did a quick calculation while Hermione passed out from the stress of not being able to give her answer.

"About 10 letters, sir."

Then Snape launched into a diatribe/lecture on all the things he'd interrogated -asked- Harry about. A few points were lost from Gryffindor, but nothing really bad happened until Neville melted his cauldron.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, bearing his teeth as he cleared away the mess. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Harry suspected he was being snappish because the potion had nearly drawn blood from poor Neville. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought-"

"That's not my job, Professor," Harry said, trying to placate the edgy man; with all these knives just waiting to shed blood, it was no wonder he hated students. "My job is to prepare my potion, you're supposed to teach us how not to do what Neville did."

Annnd that's how Harry lost 20 more points from Gryffindor.

* * *

 **The chapters may get longer when I get into writing a bit more, but we'll see. Review and let me know what you think!**


	3. Ch 3 Seeking an Absurdity

**A/N: Is it Tuesday already? Geez, time flies. Anyway, here's the next installment of the Absurd Reality that Never Really Happened!**

 **Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is probably not mine. Some words come directly from the books. There** ** _shouldn't_** **be anything from other fanfics, but there's so many ideas out there that I can't guarantee it. However, I can say I did not purposefully copy.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-Co**

Ch. 3 Seeking an Absurdity

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived... and probably faster than the Potions Master when confronted with a blood donation drive. Professor McGonagall was running toward them, and he got to his feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts-"

The next few minutes saw Harry turn from pale to a sickly green as he contemplated his short term as a wizard. He dwelled on horrible thoughts until he was pulled out of his thoughts by the professor's voice.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I've found you a Seeker." The Fourth Year boy looked delighted.

"Are you serious, Professor?" McGonagall pursed her lips, dying to respond in reference to a past Gryffindor. The Quirrell had Sprouted within her mind, but eventually she clamped down on that urge. It had Binn a long time since she'd been asked that question.

"Absolutely," she said crisply. "The boy's a natural. He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive, didn't even scratch himself! Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it." Harry looked at her dubiously; he'd dived straight through a tree and was covered in bloody scratches... Maybe that explained why Snape hadn't come to see him expelled?

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?"

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor Team," McGonagall explained, then she and Wood proceeded to talk about broomsticks and what to get him. Harry caught a snippet of her recount from last year.

"Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..."

"Oh, don't worry Professor," Harry said consolingly. "Most of us can't stand to look at his face at any time."

And now he had a detention.

* * *

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. So, instead of shivering from the cold in a courtyard, the trio had huddled around a Mason jar of warm blue-bell flames. Harry, who was reading Quidditch Through the Ages to help calm his nerves, let out a small hiss of pain as the page he was turning gave him a bad papercut. He stuck his finger in his mouth to help it stop, then caught sight of Snape crossing the yard. Harry immediately whipped his finger out and hid it in his robe pocket, but something about his guilty face caught Snape's eye. He limped over, looking for a reason to tell them off.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

Harry showed him the book, keeping his hurt finger out of sight.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape said. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Ron muttered angrily, but Harry only felt bad. Snape must've seen the paper cut, and his irritable nature had shown through out of nerves. He sighed, and they wandered back inside.

* * *

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find herself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid, and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off his turban. Owl post was nearly suspended. The dungeons were downright freezing, though Harry knew Snape didn't want them too warm; after all, blood clotted easily when it was cold, so the professor wouldn't have less to worry about.

"I do feel so sorry," Draco Malfoy drawled one Potions class. "For all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home." Harry sniped right back in the same tone about having to go home while other children got to stay in the magnificent castle, goading Malfoy into an insult-throwing tantrum that lost Harry 20 more points from Gryffindor.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were currently in the library researching. Ever since Hagrid let slip the name Flamel, they had looked through literally litters of literature, and were lit with frustration at the litigation with Madam Pince, who only allowed them in certain parts of the library.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" Hermione asked. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," Ron added. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," she responded drily.

A few days later...

Harry and Ron,

I can't believe it! I asked my parents, and according to them Nicholas Flamel was a well-renowned alchemist from the 14th century! Obviously, the muggle books don't admit him being magical, but I cross-referenced his name in the Big Book of Magical Achievements, and it gave a nice little summary...

* * *

After a delicious and fun-filled Christmas feast, Harry waited until Ron was asleep to try on the invisibility cloak. It was so magical, even in the magical world, that he couldn't wait for morning. He left the dormitory quietly, and walked toward the adventures he would have this night.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin after he had opened a book in the restricted section, and it began to scream! He snapped it shut, and someone tutted.

"No, no, no, that won't do at all! So off tune. Try again, Philip." The book Harry had opened cleared its throat, and tried screaming again.

"Oh, you utter buffoon!" snapped another book. "Like this- EEEIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEIEIEIEIEIEEEEEEIEIEEE- Gurk!" He was cut off by another book that pushed him off the shelf.

"Morons, the lot of you," a crotchety old witch's voice answered. "It's more of a AAAAAAAHHHHHHEHEEEEEEEIEEeEEIEIEIEEIIEIEIEIEIEIEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee..."

But Harry had already gone.

"Ah, nobody ever likes music nowdays."

* * *

 **Read and Review!**


	4. Chapter 4 Mirror Mirror on the Wall

A/N: I truly have no excuse for my despicable behavior in neglecting this story. Ok, that's not exactly true, I have plenty of excuses, but really! I didn't mean to leave it be for this long! Anyway, I'll update whenever possible, and I have no intention of ever abandoning this story. I have too many ideas, and I'm having too much fun torturing- I mean, playing with the characters.

Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine. Unless I accidentally created a similar story element to another written work without realizing it.

No idea when the next update will be, but this is probably the end of First Year. Enjoy!

PS: Pay attention to Dumbledore, see if you can guess what's special about his lines.

* * *

Harry stared at the mirror in longing, gazing as he had last night, wishing with all his might that it could be true. He was standing in the middle, his reflection smiling happily at his Hogwarts Graduation six and a half years from now. To his left, Aunt Petunia looked at him fondly, wiping proud tears from her eyes, and to his right, Uncle Vernon patted him gruffly on the back, his expression showing his pride in his nephew. As he watched, Dudley sidled up to him, not a fat Dudley, but a stocky young man who looked healthy in his weight, standing with him as he would with a brother. Harry didn't attempt to stop the single tear from sliding down his face.

"So- Back again, Harry?" Harry whipped around, hastily wiping his face as he turned to the Headmaster.

"I- I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore responded, and Harry was relieved to see he was smiling.

"So," he continued, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry. "You, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It- well... it shows me with the Dursley's, as family-"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy." Harry was caught off guard: he supposed his redheaded friend must have found the mirror too.

"But how would you know-?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore said gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Harry shook his head. "Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought on it, the said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," the Headmaster replied quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you..."

Harry's eyes blurred with tears, knowing what Dumbledore was saying but hating it all the same. Of course he should be seeing the Potters. The Dursleys would never accept him, and he realized that now, despite the denial that had sprung up when he first saw them in the Mirror. They never could be proud of him. He glanced back, and saw the image fading away to be replaced with Lily and James Potter.

"Yes," he said quietly. "That must be what I see."

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry nodded, and stood up. He reached the door when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Obviously, you've just done so." Harry stared at the old man, who was smiling absently at where he had been standing a few moments ago. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"Sir, are you alright?" Harry asked uncertainly, wondering if he should get Madam Pomfrey.

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Yes, definitely Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

Harry narrowed his eyes at the riddle. Ron had been knocked out at the chess set, so it was just him and Hermione. She muttered through the riddle again, then hissed in frustration.

"I don't get it!" she huffed. Harry bit his lip, looking at the bottles speculatively, seeing the different sizes, shapes, and colors.

"It's Snape's riddle, right?" At her nod, he continued. "Well, maybe it doesn't have to do with the words..."

"Harry?"

"You've got to understand Snape," Harry said, perusing the bottles. "Here, look at this! These two are red, and he's got a thing against blood, so they aren't it. Probably just wine or something. The bottles before them smell almost coppery, so they're out as well. This one here-" He pointed at the one on the end. "-is number 7, and the wizarding world is too obsessed with that number, so it's safe. And Snape relies a lot on patterns as that's what Potions is, so we have Poison, Wine, Poison, this red bottle, Poison, Wine, and #7. Again, he has a thing against blood, so the one he wouldn't want people to drink is in the red one, so that'll bring one of us forward. The lucky #7 is to go back, because it's just luck we've gotten so far. Get it? It makes perfect sense!"

Hermione watched in horror as he downed the rest of the red bottle and walked, unharmed, through the flames.

* * *

Harry groaned softly as he woke up. His memories were a bit slow in coming, but when he finally was brought to full awareness, he sat up quickly.

"Voldemort!"

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore responded. Harry glanced around in the morning-sun lit Hospital Wing.

"But sir-"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," the headmaster continued. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Sir? Well, I mean, I guess that's good news, but-"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

"Er, okay."Harry watched as the headmaster looked to the foot of his bed, which contained what looked like half a candy shop, along with a toilet seat signed by Gred and Forge.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," Dumbledore said, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"But sir, I don't think she has," Harry started, but Dumbledore rambled on.

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"Yes, sir, but what about Voldemort?"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"Headmaster?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"We must have crossed in midair." What? Harry thought in bewilderment. "No sooner had I reached London than it became clear-"

"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry called, hoping the mediwitch could hear him.

"I feared I might be too late," Dumbledore said, clearly following his own conversation. "No the Stone, boy, you- the effort involved-"

"Mr. Potter? What is the matter?" Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, frowning as she saw the Headmaster chatting about his friend Nicholas and not seeming to realize Harry's inattention.

"Come, Mr. Potter," she said kindly, helping him out of the hospital bed and into a curtained off area on the other side of the wing. Just before Harry drifted back to sleep, he heard Dumbledore's last reply to Pomfrey's ineffectual questions.

"Alas! Ear wax!"

This really was a strange, strange school.

* * *

A/N: Hurray! Year 1 done. Year 2 to come! Eventually, hopefully in a timely manner. Review! I'd like to hear from my readers!


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